Harry Potter and the Legend of the Silver Fox
by Griffen-gal
Summary: Fate has appointed Harry Potter a new guardian. HPxYYH Yavie Feels Pretty has let me take over this Fan Fiction. Rated T just in case
1. Running

**Harry Potter and the Legend of the Silver Fox**

**Chapter One**: Running

**A.N.:** Alright. As you all probably know, Yavie has let me take over her fan fiction. I decided to change a few things in this first chapter; the plot's the same but there are wordings that've been changed some different speech and descriptions added, ect. Basically I kinda revised this chapter but kept things generally the same. However since I'm a different author, you may want to read it over. Any advice is welcome, though that doesn't mean I'll take all the advice I'm given. Thanks. D

* * *

_Breath came in choking sobs as he fled, his feet pounding the unyielding dirt with weary steps. The night wind swirled about him, piercingly cold through his thin white robes, but he heeded it not in his frantic retreat from… from what? Even this he knew not anymore. Something pricked behind his eyes, and he swiped a grimy hand across his eyes to banish the tears. But whether he wept from wind or sorrow even he could not say._

_The silver ears of a fox lay flat against a wild mane of red hair, hair that should have belonged to someone else that he knew. Everything about him should have belonged to someone else; someone else who never had a chance to live._

_He stole that chance, because of him there was a family missing their REAL child; a family that completely deserved a child, not the monster which they had received._

_He drove the thought from his mind, wrenching it back to the present and the question at hand: where was he? To what end of the earth did he run to? What was he running from? Why was he running? He could always- no. No, not anymore. No longer could he delight in the shedding of blood and the shine of ill-gotten treasures, he'd seen too much in the few years he'd spent human._

_Silvery tears streamed from his eyes as he remembered her; the one who had tamed the cold silver fox. He had been so sure she would understand, be compassionate and wise like always…_

_But nobody's perfect._

_His thin chest heaved as he struggled for breath, his lungs burning like they were filled with white fire. He could not go much longer, he knew this more than he knew anything else at the moment, but he was beyond reason at this point._

_He had run this far, why not run a little farther? And after that, why not a little farther? He had nothing left, after all._

_That is emptiness best not discussed._

_Finally his legs gave out beneath him, and he toppled head-over-tail to the ground. He lay there, panting and sobbing simultaneously. He did not know how far he had run. It would not have mattered anyway, seeing as he was nowhere near home. Home? Where was home? _**What**_ was home? Did such a word have the right to exist?_

_He had nowhere. He had no one. _

_He lay on the ground, squeezing brilliant emerald eyes shut against the world, willing the ground to come and swallow him._

_But fate is a cruel mistress, and besides that, she had something else in mind.

* * *

_

Harry Potter sighed as he lay on his back and stared at the ceiling, his brow furrowing as he tried to remember the bizarre dream he had just had. It had been different than his normal dreams… well; perhaps _normal_ was too strong a word. Especially since the dreams he usually had consisted of whatever Voldemort was doing at the moment or whomever he'd recently slaughtered. But still, this dream had been different from whatever decided to plague his sleep most nights.

It had been about a man… or was it a girl? Whatever it was, it had been no normal person, unless furry ears and tails were normal occurrences among human beings. What was it? He was bewildered. He had never seen anything like it in his life.

Although he still had not idea what it was, he still felt that the creature had been extremely miserable, and it had made him want to cry. He wished he knew why.

_It's just a dream_;he firmly assured himself of this, _nothing more._

But why did he doubt that?

Harry was a wizard, albeit an underage one. On his eleventh birthday he had been told so, and was sent off to study magic at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, a prestigious wizarding school in Britain. Since then, he had battled acromantulas, blast-ended skrewts (a rather gruesome concoction of his friend Hagrid, the Hogwarts Game-keeper), the Whomping Willow, and worst of all, the evil Lord Voldemort.

Voldemort was the dark wizard who had killed Harry's parents fifteen years back, along with a good number of other witches and wizards. He was the leader of a sinister group of dark wizards called the Death Eaters, and had killed and tortured countless people; wizard and muggle both. It had been a time of darkness and confusion until he tried to destroy the wrong infant. One-year-old Harry had ended his reign, rendering him a powerless shadow of his former menace, forced to inhabit the bodies of others.

Just two years ago he returned at full-force, eager to pick up where he'd left off, starting with Harry's murder; however, he'd been unsuccessful.

A Death Eater, widely believed to be dead, had hoodwinked the Triwizard Tournament at Harry's school, bringing him to witness the nightmarish wizard's resurrection. Cedric Diggory was an unfortunate victim of the deceit, though unlike Harry, he hadn't lived to see the horrific scene nor escape from it.

The following year -a few months ago, really, though the event was yet branded into his mind- Harry, along with several other students of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry had faced off against a group of Death Eaters in the Department of Mysteries. They had barely escaped with their lives, and bore the mental scars of the encounter.

Though many had lived to tell the wayward tale, one had not left the Department of Mysteries that night.

"Sirius…" Harry whispered to the ceiling, gritting his teeth. A vague image of a man's face floated to the surface of his mind: a dark-haired man with a laugh like the bark of a dog…

"Go away!" he choked, ignoring the ache in his chest before mentally shoving the memory away. He shook his head to clear it. He would not think of it… What was past was past… he could not change that…

But how he wished he could.

* * *

"Just take the bacon and stop standing around!"

Despite his disconsolate mood, Harry had to struggle to keep himself from laughing at his aunt's grudging offer. Since he had come home from school last year, life with his relatives the Dursleys, was far different. This was mostly due to Alastor Moody's threat that he would come after the Dursleys if the did not take better care of him. Needless to say they complied, no matter how resentful they were whilst doing so.

His Aunt Petunia practically force-fed him third and fourth helpings at every meal as though she were afraid that Moody and his associates had bugged the entire house.

Harry wasn't sure if he should think of this as an improvement or not. But today came as a relief; it was the last day of the summer holidays.

"Are you done eating?" Aunt Petunia demanded irritably, though he couldn't imagine why, for she was already clearing his plate from the table.

"Yes, thanks," Harry replied politely. He was already treading on thin ice as it was, and had no wish to spend the rest of his life regretting a smart-aleck response.

"Go upstairs and get your trunk," Uncle Vernon ordered gruffly, his bushy mustache ruffling as he grumbled under his breath at his newspaper.

"Okay," he replied, eager for any excuse to leave the table. He hurled himself at the stairs, taking them five at a time. Although it harbored too many… memories… he was quite anxious to go back to school.

* * *

Harry was silent for much of the car trip, opting to stare out the window. When they finally arrived at King's Cross station, he muttered a "good-bye" and catapulted himself out the door.

He wheeled his trolley around the station, headed for platforms nine and ten. Hedwig, his pet snowy owl, screeched loudly in her cage as he hit a bump in the walkway. Several people stared oddly at him, but nobody said anything.

"Harry!"

A mass of red hair bobbed up and down on the sea of people and faces. Harry knew at once who it was.

"Ron!" he cried, standing on tiptoe to see that it was indeed Ron Weasley and the rest of his red-haired family hurrying through the crowded station toward Harry.

"Hey, Harry!" Ron shouted over the din of the station, tripping over his own feet and knocking into several important-looking businessmen.

After a hastily mumbled apology and several outraged glares, he disentangled himself from the businessmen and stood in front of Harry.

"How's your summer been?" his friend inquired, brushing off his pants and trying to pretend the last few seconds hadn't happened. They began walking toward Platform 9 ¾ while talking amongst themselves.

"Uh, okay, I guess. Yours?" Harry replied.

"Fine, if you don't count George blowing up half our chimney while trying to invent some kind of cursed chocolate. Mum invented a new shade of red with her face," he snorted, rolling his eyes. "They've made loads off that joke shop, though."

Eventually they came to the barrier between platforms nine and ten. Aiming their trolleys at the space in between the platforms, Harry, Ron, and Ron's sister Ginny dashed toward the seemingly solid brick wall and disappeared where if it were indeed a normal wall they would have crashed.

Once on the other side, Platform 9 ¾, a red train was waiting.

They lingered beside the door for a while, as they would be separated once they got on the train. Ron would have to sit in the Prefects' compartment, and Harry would find a seat elsewhere.

After entering the train, they were promptly joined by their friend Hermione Granger, another sixth year whom they had been friends with since their first year.

"Hi, Harry! Hi, Ron! Look at this book I got! It's called _The Many Myths of the Wizarding World_! It's very interesting, though I notice they're not very accurate on several of them," she frowned suddenly.

Ron's eyes widened in shock, "Ye Gods! Hermione doesn't agree with a book. I'd say it's the apocalypse, eh Harry?"

Harry sniggered, "Yeah, are you feeling under the weather or somethin' Hermione?"

"Oh, shut up, you two. I only meant that several dates were inaccurate," She snapped, smacking Ron lightly over the head with her book.

Not a moment later Ginny, Neville Longbottom and Luna Lovegood appeared at the door to their compartment. Luna was a rather odd 6th year; she carried several issues of _The Quibbler_, photographs from various trips she had taken with her father, and (what she believed to be) a horn from a Snorkle-Topped Lunktipp, whatever that was.

Neville was a rather lanky boy with fear of almost everything and a terrible memory to boot. However, he could be courageous if he put his mind to it; in the first year he stood up to Harry, Ron and Hermione even though he had been hexed for it and the previous year he fought death eaters in the Department of Mysteries.

Ginny was Ron's sister; it was obvious by their matching red hair and freckles. She was a brave, adventurous young girl who was quite the wiz with a bat bogey hex. When they had been stuck with the Inquisitorial Squad while Hermione and Harry were trapped in the woods with Umbridge, she'd unleashed this hex upon Malfoy.

Though Hermione and Ron had to leave for the Prefects compartment, swearing they'd be back later on, the ride wasn't all that bad for Harry. He still had three other friends to talk with, though the ride to Hogwarts was more uneventful than not.

The only exciting thing that happened was a chocolate frog jumping down poor Luna's shirt. She had taken the whole thing as a very funny joke, and had even eaten the frog once it hopped back out her shirt collar.

* * *

"_Ohhh…"_

_He blinked his emerald eyes wearily. He ached all over, as he should after running for six days and nights straight. Where was he? This forest was unfamiliar, and he had not seen many of these trees before._

_He propped himself up on one elbow, gingerly taking in the dark trees and damp air, trying to figure out where in the world he was. Strange sounds echoed from all sides and eyes blinked and glowed in the endless abyss beyond the clearing. It was as though he was inside a cavern with trees._

"_But I suppose it really doesn't matter much now," he said to the night air, his ears lying flat against his head again. He swished his silver tail sadly while examining his surroundings further from his place on the ground. "Though it might help some."_

_He pulled himself slowly to a sitting position upon the wet earth, breathing deeply and trying to control the emotions that ran rampant through him. He looked up toward the tops of the trees, trying to glimpse the sky, but the thick foliage obscured any vision of the world beyond the trees._

_He felt completely alone, and for good reason. He _was_ alone. Perhaps if…no; he would always live with the guilt. It was punishment worse than anything Hell itself could devise, and he deserved it.

* * *

_

Rubeus Hagrid, Keeper of Keys and Ground of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, not to mention care of magical creatures teacher, stalked through the Forbidden Forest that lay beyond the sprawling grounds of Hogwarts. Fang, his mammoth boarhound, had been barking at something by the edge of the woods all day. Hagrid fully intended to see what it was, for Fang rarely barked at anything unless he considered it a threat. Though the dog was a coward, he wasn't exactly all that stupid.

With him he carried a crossbow of enormous size, and a quiver of arrows was slung across his massive shoulder. He never went unarmed into the Forbidden Forest. Even the name suggested the danger that could be lurking within: werewolves, vampires, you name it. Even Hagrid, a large half-giant, was in harm's way.

Suddenly Fang began to growl, his hackles rising as he broke loose from Hagrid's hold on his collar and went into a mad dash straight ahead into the trees.

"Fang!" Hagrid called. "Git back 'ere!" When he suddenly let out a bark, the gamekeeper thundered headlong into the forest as well.

When he finally found Fang, he stopped dead in his tracks at the sight before him. A young girl was lying curled up against the bole of a tree, her silver-streaked red hair obscuring her features. Though this was an odd scene to say the least, it wasn't what made Hagrid start. It was something else.

Poking out of her hair was a pair of silver ears like those of a fox. They were currently drooping in a dejected fashion. He hesitantly inched forward, his eyes never leaving the girl for a moment. He towered over her, noticing a long silver tail hidden among her white robe-like garments.

"Down, Fang. Er… 'Scuse me, miss? Are yeh alrigh'?" Hagrid asked tentatively, reaching out to shake the girl's shoulder lightly.

"Mmmf," she moaned, lifting her head slowly. She jumped slightly as she laid eyes on the gamekeeper. "Wh- Who are you? What do you want with me?"

Hagrid in turn jumped as he realized that the 'she' was in fact a 'he'. He had a rich, musical voice, though it was cracked and thin from weariness.

"Oh… er, sorry. What're yeh doin' out here in the middle o' the night? Where'd you come from, eh?" He inquired, kneeling down beside the strange fox-boy. He kept his hand on his crossbow, however, just in case this boy was stronger than he let on.

The boy was silent for a while, and lowered his head again. After a few minutes he looked back up at Hagrid with brilliant emerald eyes. "I do not come from here. Are you going to shoot me?" he sounded strangely calm.

"Wha'? Oh, this. No, I'm not gonna shoot yeh. Are yeh lost?" He replied, stowing his crossbow.

"Very," the boy replied, eyes seeming to take on the dull luster of a wilted leaf. His face remained vacant, expression unreadable.

"Would yeh like to come inside?" Hagrid inquired kindly. "Yeh've gotta be cold out 'ere."

"I don't mind," said the boy. "But if you insist."

He got to his feet, and made as if to take a step in the direction Hagrid started off in, but collapsed to the ground in a senseless heap.

"Poor kid. Prob'ly bin out 'ere all nigh'," He grunted. He hefted the unconscious fox-boy onto his shoulder and set off at a brisk walk for the castle. "Professor Dumbledore's gonna love this, he will. An' I still gotta meet that train…"

* * *

Pigwidgeon hooted madly as he zoomed around the train compartment. The train had stopped already, and all the students were eager to get off.

Harry looked wistfully out the window. It had only been last year that... He choked back a lump in his throat that threatened to rise, and looked instead at Ron who was desperately trying to get Pig to calm down.

"Shut up, Pig!" Ron wailed, trying to catch the hyperactive bird.

"If you don't shut your beak, I'm gonna give you to the house elves to cook up for Thanksgiving dinner!" Ginny warned, wagging a finger in the little owl's direction.

Needless to say, Pig shut up.

* * *


	2. A Dream Made Real

**Chapter Two**: A Dream Made Real

"…What is he, Albus?"

"…Those ears…"

"…Is it… dangerous?"

As soon as they had been informed of the strange boy in the infirmary, the Professors had flocked like geese in a gaggle and grouped around the small, starched, white bed. Currently all of them were peering at the fox-boy with curiosity to rival that of a small child. Madam Pomfrey, the mistress of the infirmary, was currently busying herself by taking blood samples and poking and prodding all over the place. It was a wonder the poor thing didn't wake up, though he did shift uncomfortably several times.

"Please, make way," a decrepit voice sliced through the noise of the hospital wing. The crowd of teachers parted like the red sea, making way for the tall, elderly, bearded wizard.

Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts gazed down at the slumbering creature, no emotions betrayed by his eyes. "Awaken, kitsune," he commanded gently, laying a hand on the boy's head.

"Kitsune?" Deputy-Headmistress Professor McGonagall inquired inquisitively, sliding Albus a sideways glance.

"This boy is a _kitsune_, or a spirit fox of Japanese legend. Apparently he has somehow misplaced himself in Hogwarts, though how he found it, I don't know," Dumbledore frowned, his already heavily creased brow further wrinkling down.

"He was lookin' pretty sad when I foun' 'im, Professor," Hagrid offered, shrugging.

The chatter continued, almost all of the professors forgetting about the creature before them, soft moan came from the bed, startling a few in the room. The "kitsune" stirred, eyelids fluttering open. He attempted to focus his eyes upon the group of now-alert professors as he gingerly pushed himself into a sitting position.

"Where am I?" he quickly surveying the room, unnaturally demure even with several wands pointed in his face. "And what, may I ask, am I doing here?"

"We might ask you the same question," Severus Snape retorted coldly, glaring at the boy.

"Now, Severus, that's no way to treat a guest," Dumbledore chided gently, giving him a reproachful glance.

"No, he's right. I'm a stranger, here, and a possible threat." A soft, apologetic smile graced the young man's face. It faded quickly, however, as he glanced at Madam Pomfrey. "Madam, if you've no intention to kill me as of yet, could you please stop that?"

Madam Pomfrey flushed deep red, backed away, and quickly stowed a slim metal pole within the pocket of her starched white apron. "Sorry," she looked down in childish shame.

The Headmaster gracefully lowered himself into a chair beside the kitsune's bed. "Look at me," he ordered delicately. The fox-boy did so, his level gaze meeting the professor's own ice-blue eyes.

"Why are you here?" Dumbledore inquired, his voice soft, yet commanding respect.

"I ran."

The aged Headmaster leaned forward an unnoticeable amount as he pressed on, "But why did you run? And from whence?"

The kitsune did not answer; he simply continued to stare the professor in the eye boldly. Several moments of silence passed, during which the teachers present began to lose patience, all except for Dumbledore who serenely kept eye contact.

"We need to know if you are a danger to our students and our world. If you would rather say under Veritiserum, that can be arranged," Professor McGonagall added curtly.

"You've no right to ask me such questions. But I assure you, madam, I would never willingly harm a student of yours," the fox replied softly, glumly averting his eyes to his hands. "Nor am I here for a reason."

"Stop speaking in riddles, boy. You'll find the Ministry can be more than persuasive if we turn you over to them," Snape snapped coldly, brandishing his wand once again.

"Do what you will. I have nothing more to tell," the kitsune murmured, jade eyes shifting to the Potion Master's face. "And don't ever call me boy. I am many years your senior. Now kindly take that stick out of my face. I don't particularly wish to live the remainder of my life with crossed eyes."

"We just want to know where you live. Perhaps we can take you home," Madam Pomfrey said soothingly, her voice adopting a motherly tone.

"I live nowhere," the boy replied slowly.

She looked at him pityingly, "Are you homeless, then?"

"You can call it that if you wish," he shrugged indifferently.

"And would we lesser mortals have the privilege of learning the title of the one in whose presence we stand?" Snape sneered.

He sent a frosty glare in the Potions Master's direction; his patience was being tried. Dumbledore intervened. "We would like to know your name," he amended, gently putting a hand on the kitsune's shoulder.

The fox flinched away from the reassuring hand, but nodded in resignation. "I am Shuui-…" he stopped suddenly, eyes flickering slightly as if in sudden realization. "My name is Kurama."

"What, can't make up your mind?" Snape muttered darkly.

"That's quite enough, Severus. Now, I would like you all to go prepare for the incoming classes and allow me a few private words with Mr. Kurama," Dumbledore said firmly, leaving no room for argument. "Except for you, Professor Sprout; I need a few words with you as well if he is to stay with us as our guest. Hagrid, go meet the train, please. The students must be wondering where you are…"

* * *

"Where _is_ he?" Ron grumbled irritably. The students had been standing at the Hogsmead train station for at least an hour in the pouring rain that had no sign of slowing any time soon. "It's not like he's got anything important to do with himself!"

"Ron!" Hermione scolded, "He's probably preparing for our first lessons!"

"At ten o'clock at night? I doubt it," He muttered crossly.

"Yeah," Harry agreed, brushing his sodden bangs out of his eyes and peering into the darkness before them for the large Games Keeper. "I dunno where he could be."

"Firs' years! Firs' years this way!"

As if they had been zapped by lightening, the trio quickly looked toward the source of the familiar, rough voice that belonged to Hagrid. Ahead of them stood the hulking half-giant, calling into the torrential rain.

"HAGRID! WHERE'VE YOU BEEN?" Ron thundered, shouldering several students forcefully aside in order to reach him.

The half-giant scanned his surroundings, blinking water from his eyes that lit up when they fell upon the three. "Ron! 'Ermione! 'Arry! Nice ter see yeh again!" he called, waving a massive hand in greeting.

Harry and Hermione made their way toward the redheaded boy and the tall, dark man. As soon as they were close that she was positive they would be heard, the sandy-haired girl asked sharply, "Hagrid, where were you?"

"Uhh…" He hesitated, looking in his mind for an excuse, "I was… uh… preparin' for uh, tomorrow."

"How long can that possibly take?" Ron muttered, "And where're the carriages?"

"They're… uh… well, they're not ready tonight, so yer jus' gonna 'ave ter go wit' the firs' years in the boats," the Games Keeper stammered; lying had never been his strong point.

"Why?" Harry inquired quizzically.

"We had a… spot o' trouble, is all," he explained haltingly. "We didn't 'ave time fer the carriages."

Though aggravated, the trio obliged, climbed into one of the small boats that were waiting in the lake. The rain danced on the lake's normally glassy surface, and the dinghies sunk a bit deeper than usual from the abnormal amount of weight and passengers that flocked onto them.

After all the students were situated—with at least six per boat—they set off across the thrashing water.

"Why d'you think Hagrid's so put off tonight?" Harry whispered to his friends, who were practically sitting in his lap. (He in turn was sitting on what he was sure was Luna's arm and Neville's foot.)

"I dunno… maybe Peeves did something?" Ron suggested, shrugging. "Maybe he was terrorizing the house-elves again."

"I don't think so. Something tells me it's bigger than that…" Hermione trailed off, thinking hard.

"Well, I hope it's nothing serious," the redhead muttered. "I've had enough near-death experiences to last myself a lifetime, thank you very much."

Harry wholly agreed.

* * *

Kurama stared with glazed eyes at the sight before him that was the Great Hall of Hogwarts. He had a good view of the room from his place at the Professors' table; he was quite impressed. He had never seen such grandeur in a Ningen structure before. Though it was really the ceiling that really fascinated him most with the way it appeared to be an actual sky.

He was clad in robes of spring green, with a matching hat uncomfortably concealing his ears; the many folds of the fabric hid his tail from prying eyes.

"I look like a dunce," he murmured to himself touchily, gingerly adjusting the conical hat so it didn't crush his pained ears any more than it already was. He sighed; this was the last place he'd expected to find himself after yesterday.

Yesterday… Just that morning, he'd had a home, a family… and then, it was gone. He hadn't expected it to turn out that way…

He smiled ruefully to himself. He had been hit with everything from brooms, to crockery, to a soup ladle. They had locked him in the kitchen and spent the night outside, discussing which government branch to call to take him away.

Luckily they'd forgotten that he was an infamous thief, and thus very good at lock picking. He escaped, sneaking out the back door and running into the night. He supposed the event might have appeared amusing to some, if they were into black humor.

Although, how he'd gotten all the way from Japan to England, he had no idea. It couldn't have been more than four hours…

Besides, how could he have gotten to England? It was physically impossible; Japan was an island for Inari's sake! He shook his head, trying to clear the thoughts that ran rampant through his head.

"Mr. Kurama?" the voice of Professor Sprout came from beside him.

"_Hai_?" Kurama replied, somewhat startled by the sudden intrusion.

"You won't have to wear that hat for the rest of the year. Professor Dumbledore can put a charm on them to conceal them," the Herbology professor assured him; she'd observed him fiddling with the hat awkwardly for the past few minutes.

"Oh… yes, of course. Thank you," He nodded distractedly, eyes fixed on the ceiling. "The weather doesn't seem to be letting up at all."

The Professor made a sound of agreement, "Yes, it's a good thing you came when you did, or you would've been soaked to the bone!"

The pair sat in silence for a while, until she asked, "Do you have a surname?"

"Oh, erm…" the fox-boy wracked his brain momentarily. "Youko… will do."

"Youko, eh? Alright, then. I can't wait until the students arrive." She smiled excitedly, "Oh, speak of the devil! Here they come now!"

This woman enjoyed her job, Kurama thought with a smile. Maybe he could grow to enjoy it as well. Though he wasn't sure he could never truly love anything, not anymore.

* * *

Harry gladly wrung out the edge of his school robe as they stepped into the castle, trying not to slip on the slick marble floors.

"If I got any wetter I'd have to be water itself!" Hermione griped, trying to squeeze the water from her dripping hair. "I do hope the food's still hot."

"How could it not be? It's Hogwarts, isn't it?" Ron snorted. "Honestly Hermione!"

"Shut up, Ron," She growled, flinging water at him from her sodden hair.

The students gathered in groups in the entrance, trying to dry off before their meal in any ways they could imagine. Some used their wands to heat their robes (this ended in a few fires that had to be put out by Filch), others used gusts of wind (needless to say those who tried this method had never learned about physics), while others rushed about and squeezed water from their clothing. Though these methods didn't do much, the group filed into the Great Hall a bit drier than they'd previously been.

"Wonder who we got for Defense Against the Dark Arts this year?" Ron muttered to Harry as they leisurely strode through the doors.

"Probably a psycho killer maniac iguana or something," He whispered back, sniggering.

Hermione rolled her eyes at the thought of an iguana, "Or Umbridge. Which would be worse, do you think?"

Her redheaded companion laughed, "Definitely Umbridge, nothing is worse than that troll. What do you think, Harry? Harry?"

Though he didn't get an answer, even when he waved his hand in front of his friend's dazed face. The boy couldn't answer; it was as if he'd been hypnotized. The other two followed his gaze up to the teacher's table.

A very handsome, almost effeminate young man with peculiar long hair of silver-streaked crimson was bent over the table, murmuring to Professor Sprout like a pair of gossiping old women might do. He glanced briefly at the students with rather large green eyes, his face devoid of any emotion. He was dressed in flowing robes of brilliant green, a pointed hat perched atop his head.

"Who d'you think that is?" the gangly boy murmured, craning his neck for a better view of the teacher through the sea of students that swarmed to the large tables.

"He must be the new DADA teacher!" the bushy-haired girl hissed, looking from the boy at the table who couldn't have been much older than themselves to her dark-haired, skinny friend. "Harry, what's wrong?"

He swallowed hard, fearfully as they took their seats at Gryffindor Table. "I don't know. I'll tell you later. Not now," he muttered, his eyes fixed on the man.

Dreams weren't supposed to just get up and walk around, were they?

* * *

I finally got around to editing this page. I would've done it last night, but I was feeling tired and lazy; I didn't wanna half-ass the whole thing, so I put it off until I felt like doing it, this way it would come out awesome, which I think it did. Anyway, I hope this thing came up to your expectations at least, I left a lot of the original speech since it really did sound like things the characters might say, so there was no point in changing that. However I added a lot of actions that would sound more normal for each person in their current situations. I love Yavie's scene ending sentences, because they end things so smoothly, so I'd like to keep whatever ones I can. ; Reviews would be nice.

Till next time,  
Rin


	3. Professor Youko

**Chapter Three:** Professor Youko

* * *

"Harry? Heeelllllloooo? Err...I think we've lost 'im..."

Harry jolted himself back into reality at the sound of Ron's voice. "Huh? Wha?" he inquired dimly, shaking himself to relieve himself of the sensation one is left with after a rather disturbing realization. The stranger at the teachers' table had moved away to lean against the wall, despite receiving several odd glances from students and teachers alike.

"The Sorting's starting!" His red-headed best friend snorted, shaking his head. "Honestly! You've been staring at that guy ever since we got in here! You're beginning to make me wonder, Harry…"

"Shut up!" He grumbled darkly, angrily swatting at Ron's head without enough concentration to land a decent hit. "It's just that… oh, never mind. I'll tell you upstairs."

"Do you think he's working for… You-Know-Who?" Hermione cautiously lowered her voice; though the trio generally discussed this sort of thing, it was common practice to lower one's volume when speaking of horrible figures such as Voldemort.

"…I don't know. I've seen him before, but I can't tell you right now," Harry hissed back just as McGonagall briskly marched into the Great Hall with a stool and the shabby old Sorting Hat.

An immediate hush fell over the entire hall as she placed the decrepit Sorting Hat—the thing was as old as the school itself—atop the stool.

A tear in its brim ripped open once more like every year as the hat began to sing in a raspy, leathery sort of voice. Harry did not hear much of what it rattled on about, if he were to guess it was probably the routine ramblings of a choosy hat that he'd heard since his first year about five years previous. His mind was elsewhere, farther away from the current situation that the stars themselves.

What was going on here? First, he dreams of the fox-like creature that suddenly showed up at school like it was no one's business. Almost as if he knew he didn't belong, yet didn't give a rat's ass about the opinions of the baffled students. Maybe it was just a coincidence?

Harry rolled his eyes inwardly. Please. Since when had anything in Harry's life been a coincidence, _especially_ one of his dreams? As though they had a mind of their own his eyes traveled back up to the red-headed boy who's presence had sent him reeling.

The "mystery-man" was currently adjusting his hat gingerly and wincing as though something pained him. He sighed, passing a hand over his face as if fatigued. Harry was almost sure he felt the same way; the situation was tiringly familiar yet a complete stranger to him at the same time. What a paradox.

"And now with that, done, I would like to introduce a friend of mine."

He snapped out of his mind's ramblings and theories, hopping back into reality as the Headmaster stood, spreading his hands for quiet.

"Professor Sprout has been in need of an assistant lately, so we've been joined by a student of the Byakuya Academy of Japan. He is studying abroad in order to earn credit toward one of his classes. I expect you to treat him with the utmost respect," Dumbledore paused for a moment, glancing down at the Slytherin table. "Please welcome Kurama Youko."

There was some applause (mostly from the female audience), and Youko nodded his head politely, his face completely blank.

"And with that said, on with the feast!" Dumbledore announced in his cheerfully regal manner before he clapped his withered hands once. The golden goblets, serving platters, plates and bowls promptly filled themselves with the glorious feast Hogwarts was known for.

"There's still one thing I don't understand," Hermione mumbled before taking a rather large bite out of her biscuit.

"What?" Ron inquired, helping himself to a generous amount of beef stew as well as a large portion of everything else that was around him. "What's not to get? There's some new Japanese pretty-boy who comes from some fancy private magic academy."

"Not that!" Hermione grumbled as she refilled her goblet with pumpkin juice. "Had you examined the table, you'd have noticed that there's no new DADA teacher this year!"

Harry's eyes widened as he realized his friend was right. His first year he'd been enrolled at Hogwarts they received some sort of loon that worked for Voldemort; the track record wasn't any greater from there. The exception to this gaggle of goons was Professor Lupin, who ended up leaving after Snape spilled his secret at the end of the year. "Yeah that doesn't sound good, but maybe they aren't taking the train or something," he murmured.

Ron chewed thoughtfully on the thick stew before suggesting, "I dunno. Maybe he's gonna be 'fashionably late' like Moody was."

Harry's stomach did a strange little flip as he remembered the events of his fourth year at Hogwarts in which his life had turned upside down. Voldemort had returned. By now there was no denying that, no matter how hard the wizarding world tried. With his godfather recently deceased and his relatives on the warpath more so than usual, Harry was quite sure he wouldn't survive another summer.

Finally, the feast came to a close. With many an "I'm gonna throw up", the students filed out of the Great Hall, the first years following house prefects to their dorms.

Ron and Hermione had been appointed to the positions of Gryffindor prefects the prior year, leaving Harry unable to exchange more than a few words with them on the way to bed as they were leading tired and bewildered first years up to their own quarters.

"So, Harry!" Harry turned at a voice behind him. It was Colin Creevy, a towheaded fourth year that was known for toting a camera and stalking him. He sighed inaudibly, trudging up the stairs at his tired pace.

"Oh, hey Colin," Harry greeted him dully; He was so worn-out he felt as though he would never make it to the top of the enchanted stairs before he passed out.

"So, Harry!" The persistent pest repeated chipperly. "Whaddya think of that new kid?"

"He looks like a girl!" Seamus Finnegan, another sixth year, joined the conversation, pushing his way up the stairs to catch up to them. "I mean, it's bad enough that his face is that… that _pretty_, but he also has to have his hair that long!"

"I didn't know the Japanese had red hair…" Colin mused, wrinkling his forehead. "Anyway, he _does_ look like a girl!"

The pair continued to discuss the new professor while Harry fell back to the rear of the crowd. Somehow, he did not yet wish to discuss this newest problem quite yet.

* * *

Kurama sighed in relief as he shook the accursed hat from his head. Oh, his poor tormented ears…

He struggled out of the green robes he'd been provided and into the pajamas he'd found on his bed when he'd entered his temporary residence in the back room of the Hospital wing. Due to the insistence of Madam Pomfrey that he was "not quite in the condition to be wandering up and down stairs" he'd been practically confined in the space.

He was convinced that Minerva had blackmailed Dumbledore into detaining him there for the "good of the students".

He felt strangely numb, as if a part of him had been frozen inside. It had, in a way. No matter how much he may come to love this place, he would always be alone, because of her.

Why?

Why had she acted so? The way she had looked at him…it was like he had betrayed her. Though he supposed he had sort of betrayed her.

"I did it to protect her!" he said aloud to himself, as if trying to convince himself of his own innocence. "To protect her…"

It was no use. He had stolen her child, her love…all for his own worthless skin.

He should have died then, died as the criminal he was. Maybe he was changed, but all the changes in the world cannot atone for one's sins in a previous life. There were some things that nothing could rectify.

The beautiful kitsune. The cute schoolboy.

The cunning fox. The perfect son.

Silver. Red.

The liar.

* * *

Sunlight streamed through the large windows of the hospital wing casting buttery light upon the sterilized room. This, however, was hardly enough to brighten the spirits of the lady who currently resembled a thundercloud waiting to strike.

"Oh I knew it was a bad idea to let him out of bed in his condition! Now look what's happened!" Madam Pomfrey fumed, storming around the room opening and closing cabinets as she pulled different medicines from their living quarters. "Oh, professor, it's all Dumbledore's fault!"

Professor Sprout trailed behind the fretting nurse, making a valiant (though as of yet ineffective) attempt to soothe her. "Now, Madam Pomfrey, it was nobody's fault. The boy's just over-tired. Now calm down and get him some water to drink!" she wheedled, watching the nurse distractedly pile herbs and pills onto the table. "Oh, and I'm fairly sure he doesn't need Skele-gro, Madam."

The other woman glanced down at the bottle she was holding. "Oh… yes, yes, you're right, of course," she muttered distractedly, stuffing the bottle back into the disheveled cabinet.

Snatching up several green pills and a cup of red liquid, she bustled over to the currently indisposed kitsune's room.

"Mr. Kurama?" she called softly into the hazy darkness, "Mr. Kurama, how are you feeling?" She padded over to his temporary bed and placed tentative a hand on his shoulder.

"Mmm? Yes? What is it?" the fox cracked open a bleary green eye before he pushed himself up into a sitting position, brushing stray silver-streaked hair out of his face. "Oh, and good morning."

"We came in last night and found you on the floor. What happened? Do you recall?" The Nurse demanded as gently as some one in her situation could, feeling her charge's forehead. "Do you feel ill?"

He sighed, eyes closing briefly. "Oh, forgive me for causing you to worry, Madam. 'Twas not my intent, I assure you," he murmured.

"Exhaustion," clucked Madam Pomfrey, forcing a pill into the startled boy's mouth and thrusting the red liquid into his hand. "Drink that, all of it, and swallow the pill."

Kurama fixed a suspicious gaze upon the nurse, one eyebrow raised. "What is--?"

"Drink it. Ask questions later."

However hesitantly, the kistune obliged. He seemed to immediately regret his moment of obedience. The young man's eyes squeezed shut and he spluttered into the cup. "Wha… what was that?" he choked, wiping the liquid from his mouth. "That's horrible."

"Perhaps it is best if you didn't know, my dear," Professor Sprout replied serenely. "I asked that once and had to sit with a basin in front of me for a week."

The kitsune paled slightly. "…Oh."

"You ought to stay here and rest for a day or two, Mr. Kurama," The irate nurse continued, ignoring his protests as she forced him to lay down again and tucked another blanket up under his chin. "You're tired and need rest."

"Really, Madam, I'm fine!" he insisted, struggling to sit up once more. "Please, I would like to-…"

"She's right, dear. You mustn't be out of bed in your condition. Perhaps if you are stable by noon you could come and watch a class or two."

"Stable? I'm quite stable, thank you very much! I was just rather tired last night is all!" The kistune sniffed indignantly.

"Tired enough to pass out on the floor?" Professor Sprout inquired dryly.

Kurama's face flushed crimson. "I, er… well, you see I… um…" he spluttered, ears lying flat against his head. "I was… uh… very tired."

Madam Pomfrey exchanged a skeptical look with the Herbology professor, who turned her eyes to the heavens. "Sure, just a wee bit tired," the nurse snorted. "Now just do as I say and take a blasted nap!"

He sighed in defeat. "As you wish, Madam. But do not expect me to laze around in here all day."

"Wouldn't dream of it," The nurse purred. "Now just go to sleep!" With that, the two women left the room, shutting the door behind them. Kurama lay down, and somehow discovered that his eyelids were a lot heavier than they had felt…

* * *

Sorry it's taken me so long! I didn't think I'd make you all wait so long. Hopefully this update was worth it? I've been uber busy as of late; first there was the play, then I got sick, twice, ect, ect. I'm not gonna make any more excuses though cause they don't mean a thing. Hopefully the next update will be sooner than 3 months from now, eh?


	4. Kitsune Absentee

Chapter 4: Kitsune Absentee

**Chapter 4:** Kitsune Absentee

"Fox?"

At the Minamino residence, a small shadow was silhouetted against one dark window on the second story, rapping at the glass impatiently.

"Fox, I'll give you to five to open this window," the figure warned, crimson eyes narrowing in irritation.

Nothing.

He peered into the room, but was not able to see for the drawn shades. He knocked again. His brow knitted down in confusion as he got no answer once again. "Fox?"

Grumbling, he slipped slender but powerful fingers under the window frame, braced his feet on the sill, and yanked it up.

The shade ruffled slightly in the brisk autumn wind as he stepped silently inside the room; it was dark inside, almost pitch dark, and apparently devoid of any inhabitants. His crimson eyes peered into the darkness of the room in an attempt to locate whom he sought; his efforts were futile, it appeared as though the room had been empty for at least a few days now.

_I can't sense his energy…_ the red eyed shadow observed silently, making for the window again. _He must be gone._

Satisfied, but confused with his conclusion that the "fox" was indeed absent, he hopped swiftly up to the windowsill, shut the window, and leapt to a nearby tree. He leaned against the tree trunk, settling down on a large limb and drawing his long black cloak about him. Closing his eyes, he mulled over his strange discovery.

"Hiei? Hiiiiieeeeiiiii? Hey, _Hiei_!"

The black-cloaked demon cracked open an eye in irately as a shout sounded from the base of the tree he'd perched in. "Do you have a death wish, detective?" he snapped, refusing to move from his position on the branch.

"Get Kurama for us, His-Royal-Vertically-Challenged-ness needs to see him about something!"

A teenaged boy with heavily gelled black hair glowered up at him, bloodshot eyes suggesting that he'd just been hauled from his bed.

"Hn," Hiei grunted, hopping lightly to Kurama's window ledge. He rapped sharply on the glass. Again, there was no answer.

"He's not there?" the other called up, scratching his head. "You'd have thought he would've told us he was going on vacation or somethin'."

"He wasn't there last night, either," the shorter man mused, more to himself than to the "detective".

"Let's try the front door. Maybe his mom'll tell us where he is," the boy suggested.

Said man leapt from the window and landed lightly on the ground beside his unwanted "alarm clock". They rounded the house and came to the door. The black haired boy reached out and rang the doorbell.

After a few minutes, a woman opened the door, brushing stray wisps of brown hair from her face. She was of middle age, and would have appeared completely content and serene if her eyes hadn't been puffy and stained with crimson. "Yes? Can I help you?" she inquired stiffly.

"Yeah, hi, Mrs. Minamino, is Shuuichi at home?" Hiei's companion asked, grinning brightly.

Mrs. Minamino's eyes appeared to suddenly ice over, and she gripped the brass doorknob hard. "I do not know anyone of that name. You must have the wrong house." With that, she shut the door. Hard.

"What the…?" the "detective" wondered, leaping back to avoid being hit by the door.

"Yusuke, where's Kurama?"

The owner of the new voice shuffled up to the small sidewalk to the door, a young, rosey-eyed woman twining a lock of azure hair around one finger. "Hey, Botan," Yusuke muttered, still eyeing the door with a look of utter bewilderment.

"Where's Kurama? What's with his mother?" newcomer inquired, scurrying anxiously toward the pair. "She seemed really upset."

The dark haired boy shook his head, baffled. "I dunno. She said she didn't even know him!" he murmured as the three of them slowly started away from the door.

"You think they had a fight or something?" Botan suggested, chewing her lip thoughtfully.

"Me and my mom fight all the time, but she never says I don't exist," The detective pointed out wryly. He shoved his hands into his pockets in an attempt to ward off the chill that had hit him out of nowhere.

"I don't like it," the normally chipper girl sighed. "Something isn't right here."

"No kidding," Urameshi snorted, rolling his eyes. He began to count off on his fingers. "One: Kurama's missing just when Koenma's got something to tell him. Two: His mother says he doesn't live there. Three: He didn't even tell us where he's gone."

"Perhaps I can explain that, Yusuke."

Yet another, seemingly young chestnut-haired man attired in a strange blue outfit had joined them. Rather, he had appeared beside Botan with a loud _pop_. Oddly enough, he was chewing worriedly at an infant's pacifier. "Last night, something happened that was felt throughout the three realms," he muttered.

"Enough with the suspense toddler bitch! Where the hell's Kurama?" The spirit detective demanded, rounding on the new arrival.

"The Mayakashi Flute has been blown," the new arrival sighed, rubbing his temples in a harried sort of way.

"The who?"

Koenma, as the detective had called him, turned his eyes to the heavens. "Honestly, Yusuke. The Mayakashi flute, or Deception Flute, has been locked away in a high security vault for eons, as it could be drastic if it was blown," he began.

"Let me guess," Yusuke interrupted. "It was in high security vault, and then someone stole it. Why is it that everything that gets stolen from Reikai is in a high security vault?"

"As much as I hate to admit it, the detective has a point. I don't think much of your 'high security'," Hiei sneered. "Now it would be rather helpful if you'd tell us exactly what this Mayakashi flute does."

"Do my ears deceive me? Does Hiei actually _want_ to help?" Botan inquired in disbelief, leaning down so she could be at eye level with the diminutive fire demon. "Who are you and what did you do with Hiei?"

_If looks could kill…_Yusuke thought, shuddering as he saw the fiery glare the diminutive demon gave her.

"Unless you wish to lose your head, I would suggest you get out of my face."

"Uhhh, sorry…"

The Reikai prince cleared his throat sharply in order to gain the spotlight once more. "Do you want to know what happened to him or not?" he grumbled impatiently. At eager nods from Yusuke and Botan (and a grunt from Hiei), he continued. "In a nutshell, the Mayakashi Flute, when played properly, will bring a person's deepest secrets into the open."

"Then how come my mom didn't find out about…" Yusuke started, but Koenma held up a hand to silence him.

"Do you think she'd care much?" he asked.

The detective thought for a minute. "You know, I don't really know. I don't think she would. I mean, I died and came back to life and she was just grateful I was back," he mused.

"Exactly. Forgive me for speaking plain, but your mother is probably too hung-over to give a care about Reikai."

"Yeah… If you invited us over for tea and introduced us, she'd think 'son of Enma' was a cute nickname," The ferry girl chimed in. "And I don't want to know what she'd think of 'ferrygirl to the dead'."

"Only a person's deepest, darkest secrets would be revealed. Something that would perhaps change, or _end_ their life," The light-haired boy explained.

"What? Kurama's _dead_?" Yusuke hollered. Several passerbies stared, but made no comment.

"No, I said nothing of the sort!" the demi-god snapped, clapping a hand to his forehead in exasperation. "And stop shouting!"

Hiei gritted his teeth. This godling was starting to rub him the wrong way. "Why don't you stop beating around the bush and tell us what happened, then?" he snarled.

Koenma winced. "Sorry, Hiei. Apparently, whoever has stolen the flute does not know the song which would make it work properly, so it only half worked," he sighed. "For which I'm thankful."

"Why?" Yusuke demanded.

At this the Reikai prince slid the Spirit Detective a sideways glance. "Because he may have died or gone mad from the pain of being forced completely into his original form by an outside force."

"So… does that mean he's still human? Or what?" Botan pressed as she bit her lip nervously. "Is he okay?"

Koenma passed a hand over his face wearily. "We've located him," he replied. "He's somewhere in Britain, though for some reason he completely disappeared from our radar two nights ago."

"Then he's dead?" The half-demon yelped in alarm.

The demi-god appeared quite ready to explode. "No, for the last time, _no_! He's alive, or something. We lost track of him. He must have entered a dimensional rift or something…"

"How in the world did he get all the way from Japan to Britain with a tail? And in one night?" The spirit detective snorted. "I mean, it's not easy to board a "no pets aloud" airplane when you look like a pet."

The blue-haired girl delivered a not so gentle tap to his head with her oar. "Yusuke, this is serious! What if we can't find him before- before the flute thief learns how to play it properly! He'll die! And we won't even know where he is!" she cried, bursting into tears and seizing Yusuke in a sort of a chokehold.

"Gakhg! Botan! You're- strangling- me!" the spirit detective in question hacked, attempting to pry the distressed ferrygirl off of his neck. "He'll- ow!- be okay! We'll find the- urghle!- guy who stole the flute and find Kurama!"

"But that still leaves us the problem of his family!" The girl sobbed into Yusuke's shoulder, who awkwardly patted her on the back. "I mean, what if they won't let him come back? What if- what if…?"

"Botan, you must calm down! It's not helping that you're throttling Yusuke!" Koenma snapped. "He's alive, or otherwise you would be ferrying his spirit right now!"

The ferry girl blinked, scrubbing tears away from her eyes with her sleeve. "Oh! Of course!" she giggled. "How silly of me!"

"How'd he get all the way from Japan to Europe?" The spirit detective asked again, scratching his head in confusion.

"I think I can explain that as well. Perhaps he found a rift into the demon world at the edge of the city," The demi-god suggested. "We found that one had been opened the same night the flute was blown. Apparently the thief opened it to escape."

"So… if we find Kurama…" Yusuke began.

"We find the thief," Hiei finished.

"Where do we look if he's not on radar?" Botan inquired, apparently baffled.

"In Europe. I have some idea of where he is, though it won't be easy to get there," Koenma announced.

The red-eyed demon turned his scowl to the demi-god. "Stop with all the mystery. Where are we going?"

The pacifier-sucker backed away slightly for fear of the angered demon. "A school where humans with uncanny amounts of energy learn how to channel it through wooden wands and convert it to a purified power they call 'magic'. It's called Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry."

**A.N.: **Hey look, it's been three months. XD Amazingly, it wasn't finals that caused the delay. It was a lack of motivation and inspiration. You guys kicked me back into shape though Thanks for reading and hopefully reviewing as well! I really appreciate all the reviews and encouragement; I'm sorry if I forget to reply sometimes XD I get caught up and forget stuff sometimes.


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